The End
by Skylark Starflower
Summary: When his past catches up with him it's all he can do to make sure his son remains safe and well, no matter what the cost.


Author's note/Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon, it belongs to Nintendo, Game Freak and all those other companies who own it. I'm just writing this for the fun of it, really, because I'm a horrible little monster, and I make no money off it. Mwee hee hee. Certain characters who don't appear in the show are of my own invention, please ask if you'd like to use them for whatever reason.

So, not really a whole lot I can say about this, and even if I did have something to say for myself, it would just give things away. So, on with the horribleness, and I mean that in a good way. Mwaa haa ha ahaa!

"**The End"  
****By Skylark Starflower  
****Started November 1****st****, 2008  
****Finished November 6****th****, 2008**

He drew back the curtain and peered out through the window, a sad smile playing across his lips as he took in the scene. The child, his son, was playing, blissfully unaware, with the two pokémon he still owned. He knew that blissfulness was soon to end.

With a sigh, he let the curtain fall back into place and sat down once more. He fixed his gaze on his company, searching dark eyes for any kind of emotion, though finding none.

"Do we really have to do this?"

His friend, for lack of a better term, pushed his black cap back on his head, taking some of the shadow from his face.

"I'm afraid so, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Neither man spoke, the long silence punctuated only by the sounds coming from the yard. What was there to be said between a murderer and his victim?

"You know I didn't abandon you all those years ago, right?"

The man in black chuckled, the first sign of any real emotion he had shown since his arrival. "This has nothing to do with that, and you know it."

"I do. I just… wanted to be clear abut it."

"I see."

"…"

"The boss is not happy with you."

"Do you mean Giovanni or Jessie?"

And now there was laughter, rich and deep and honest. "The truth? Both. As miserably incompetent as you were, deserting Team Rocket still comes at the price of death. And what were you thinking, crossing Jessie like this?"

He brushed graying hair from his eyes before replying. "That's a bit of a story. If you have the time, I'll tell you." He paused, awaiting a reply, but received none. He took it for a yes. "I followed her for years, since the day we met, but I never had the courage to tell her why until… well, until it was too late. I knew it was, but I refused to admit it, hoping I could draw her back from madness.

"At first, it did seem to help. She seemed happier, and I know I was. Everything changed after Robbie was born, though not right away. Jessie was a good mother for the first few months. Then it all went bad. Jessie's madness came back with a vengeance. I was afraid she would hurt someone, especially Robbie. …So, I took him and ran."

Silence fell once again as he waited for the black-clad man to say something, but it seemed no comment was forthcoming. He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "I forgot. You don't care."

"No, I don't. I suppose I'm just allowing you to drag this out so I can enjoy watching you squirm."

"Well, I'm glad to see you haven't changed much."

"Haven't I?"

"…I suppose you have. The Wyatt I knew wasn't such a cold, unforgiving monster."

"And the James I remember was more of a whiny crybaby. So we've both changed. The question is, were they changes for the better?"

"I'd like to think they were. At least for me, I don't know about you."

"Heh. Now, I was told there was also a talking pokémon with you, and I was to deal with it as well. Where is it?"

"Meowth? I'm afraid you're about a year too late for that. He passed away last summer. He got old, like me."

"No matter. You were the more important target, anyway. You are a hard man to find, James Morgan."

James brushed his hand through his hair once more, a small smirk crossing his face. "Of course. How do you think I managed to avoid my parents all this time?"

"Ha! We both know they weren't really looking all that hard!"

James wasn't sure why the comment stung, but it did. He frowned. "Okay, I think we've dragged this out long enough. I know why you're here. We might as well get this over with."

Wyatt shrugged and stood, drawing a small handgun from a hidden holster. "Have it your way."

Cocking the weapon, he brought it to bear on the man he had spent nine years searching for. The sudden fear in James' eyes was something he had been looking forward to. It was almost a shame he couldn't kill him twice.

"Wait!"

Wyatt raised the gun, aiming it towards the ceiling, and grinned. Begging for mercy at the last minute. It was so James, and so delightfully satisfying. "What is it?"

"What's going to happen to Robbie?"

"He'll be returned to his mother, of course."

"Ca…can I say goodbye?"

Even as he did it, Wyatt wasn't sure why he tucked his gun away into its hiding place and replied, "Okay." He wasn't going to shoot James in front of his son, he wasn't there to traumatize the child, but allowing the father to say goodbye wasn't his usual style.

He followed James out into the yard, but stayed back, leaning against the side of the cottage with his arms crossed as the older man headed towards the child. Robbie, spotting his father, ran for him, forgetting about the two pokémon he had been playing with.

"Dad!"

The ten year old wrapped his arms around his father's middle as James enveloped his son into a tight hug. The boy instantly knew something was wrong, just through his father's body language.

James had made it his policy to try to be nothing like his own immoral parents, and had tried never to lie to his son. Robbie knew about his mother and the reason why James had left her. He also knew of the trouble his father was in because of it. He had known someone would be coming for James someday, but he had fervently hoped that day would never arrive.

"I'm sorry, Robbie… I'm so sorry…"

Robbie tightened his grip on his father. Though he had known this day would come, he hadn't been told what would happen afterwards. It was the only thing James couldn't bear to tell him. Robbie wasn't stupid, however, and had pieced together the truth on his own.

"No, dad… You can't go!"

James couldn't meet his son's eyes. Though he had spent the last nine years steeling himself for this moment, it wasn't enough. There wasn't adequate time in eternity to prepare to say farewell, and to see the look of anguish on his son's face would just make things all the more difficult.

Instead, he just hugged Robbie harder. It was getting tougher for him to speak around the lump in his throat as he fought back tears. "I…I have to, Robbie. There isn't much I can do about it."

The boy buried his face into his father's shoulder as he began to sob. It was all James could do to keep from breaking down himself. He allowed his son to cry for several more moments before he finally pushed him away gently.

Reaching into a pocket, James withdrew two pokéballs. "Carnivine, Mr. Mime… Return." There was a crackle of energy as the balls put out their beams of red light, recalling the pokémon registered to them. Once complete, James handed the two pokéballs to his son. "Here, these pokémon are yours now, but you have to stop crying and be strong to take care of them, okay?"

Robbie wiped his arm across his face and hiccupped before replying. "Okay, dad…"

"Remember what I told you, now. You're old enough to start your own pokémon journey. Carnivine and Mr. Mime may be getting old, but they will help you on your way. Don't let your mother stop you." James lowered his voice to a whisper, making sure Wyatt couldn't hear the next part. "Don't be afraid to run away if you have to. Carnivine and Mr. Mime are a lot stronger now than they once were, they'll keep you safe. Don't forget, look for Ash Ketchum. He'll help you, all right?"

"Is mom really that bad?"

James stood, sighing. "I wish I could say no, but I can't say yes, either. She's unpredictable, but if you ever feel like you're in danger, get out."

"As touching as this is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to break it up now."

Wyatt had pushed away from the cottage, approaching the pair with unsettling stealth. He now stood next to James, grinning dangerously. James gritted his teeth but did nothing else as the black clad man placed a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "Time for you and your father to both go. Come on."

With a shove that was rougher than necessary, Wyatt pushed the two forward, Robbie clinging to his father's arm, towards the vehicle that had brought the Rocket grunt out to the remote home.

"Into the car, kid."

At first, Robbie shook his head, tightening his grip on his father's arm. It was clear to James that Wyatt was nearing the end of his patience, so he calmly pried his son from him, and gave him a gentle push towards the car. "Don't be afraid, it'll be okay, all right? I…I love you, Robbie. Be good for your mother…"

A nameless grunt got out from the drivers' side, opened the back door and made Robbie get in. As soon as the door was slammed and the driver heading back to his own seat, Robbie turned and started screaming. With the child locks engaged, he couldn't get out.

"No! Let me go! You can't kill my dad! Please!"

The cars engine revved and it pulled away with a crunch of gravel, slowly at first, but gaining speed. Robbie's sobbed protests faded the further away the vehicle got. In moments, it had turned and disappeared from sight, leaving James and Wyatt alone, the silence closing in around them.

"You son of a bitch…"

James pivoted on his heel, the twist adding force to his punch. Unfortunately, Wyatt had been expecting it, and pulled back in time for the strike to become nothing more than a glancing blow across the chin. Tsking, Wyatt threw a punch of his own, sending James spinning. The older man fell heavily, skinning his palms on the rocky driveway.

Wyatt scowled down at the blue haired man. "Get up. I've had enough of your bullshit, James."

"Go to hell."

With a sigh, Wyatt drew his gun once more, pointing the business end towards James, as the older man picked himself up from the ground. "I insist you go first."

The crack of gun fire echoed throughout the surrounding forest. The force of the shot threw James back to the ground, splashing blood everywhere.

Wyatt turned to leave, figuring his job to be done. He rarely missed, and the shot had been practically point blank. A strangled, wet cough caused him to turn back, to find James trying to drag himself up, clutching at his mortal injury. Knowing of James' history, and the many, many times he should have died but hadn't, Wyatt was only mildly surprised that he had not killed him with his first shot.

James managed to lever himself up onto one knee, a coughing fit splattering the ground with more blood. It was clear to Wyatt that this was the best the dying man could accomplish.

Grumbling, he walked over and pressed the barrel of his weapon against James' temple. "Should I put you out of your misery now, or should I let you bleed to death?"

James glowered at his killer, unable to answer without choking on his own blood. Even if he could speak, he had nothing left to say to Wyatt.

Wyatt looked thoughtful for a moment, and then grinned, a ghastly mockery of amusement. "I suppose in a way, I do get to kill you twice."

He pulled the trigger.

**The End**


End file.
